


A Question of Trust

by crookperkdeck



Category: PAYDAY (Video Games)
Genre: First Kiss, Holidays, Houston saying what we all want to say really, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21982633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookperkdeck/pseuds/crookperkdeck
Summary: It wasn’t the first time Chains had been stuck alone in the van having to peel the ungodly mess of tactical armor off himself after a heist.
Relationships: Chains/Houston | Hoxton
Kudos: 35





	A Question of Trust

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Payday 2 Secret Santa on tumblr, and my partner requested some chains/houston being cute :) Have a happy holidays and thank you for reading!

It wasn’t the first time Chains had been stuck alone in the van having to peel the ungodly mess of tactical armor off himself after a heist.

He wouldn’t trade the kind of protection it offered for anything—he’d hardly be called the “muscle” of the gang otherwise—but it didn’t make it any easier to be trapped in the garage for an extra half-hour trying to remove it while everyone else had taken to celebrating the day’s haul.

John had been the only one to hesitate upon exit, wordlessly asking to lend a hand, but Chains had waved him off. Maybe he could’ve accepted it another day, but everyone was caught in the hype of a successful heist as much as the festivities of the holidays. And God knows if anyone needed to be a part of that sooner rather than later, it was John.

So the lights danced in the living room, and the music blared, and there was a raucous collective of dozens of voices, and meanwhile Chains did all but sit on his ass and feel himself get more impatient the more time ticked by.

(Especially in fear that someone— _Jimmy_ —would get their hands on his fucking eggnog again.)

Chains couldn’t help but look over to everyone’s silhouettes in the reflections of the light, wondering what was going on without him, and knowing he was just two aggravatingly long steps away from joining them. The pieces of armor for his limbs had already been discarded to the floor of the van (which he’d likely get an earful from either Aldstone or Twitch later for), but all the trouble was in the chest piece anyway, with not only the design but also it bumping into every which injury on his body along the way.

He inhaled sharply from it making contact with a particular shotgun blast from a particularly cocky Bulldozer he had had to deal with, and it was matched by the sound of the garage door swinging open and someone’s silhouette curving inside as they entered.

Chains scooted forward to try to see who it might be, but ultimately was keyed into it with the resulting sigh of relief that they released when the door finally shut behind them—there were few other heisters who could feel such a rush leaving a party rather than arriving to it.

“Hey there,” Chains tested, not wanting to spook them as soon as they came in. However, the garage did much of nothing to prevent _that_ from happening, carrying his voice like nothing else without the sounds of repair and competing music tastes that normally filled the space. “You’re not gonna find much of a party in here, you know.”

There was a pause. Footsteps. And finally Houston’s face rounded the van door to see him.

“Uh, hey,” Houston greeted, and a sense of recognition settled into his expression as he saw Chains and the project he was currently bugged down on. “I was wondering why you weren’t inside but…should’ve figured, huh?”

Chains gave him a look that very clearly said _no shit_ , and the edge of a smile appeared on Houston’s face.

“Don’t worry, you’re almost out of there, chief. I’ll stay out of the way of…that, so pretend I’m not even here.” He crossed over to get to his workplace, and there immediately echoed the sound of tools being rummaged around.

Chains’s brow furrowed for a moment before he went back to dissembling the armor from himself. “Don’t tell me it’s getting so bad in there you’re needing to work that shit off. You’re not gonna find much, cops were _way_ more determined to shoot me instead of the van.”

There was a pause in the sound. “No, it’s…it’s a lot of damn people in there. I’m fine out here, trust me.”

The rummaging of tools continued, which was odd to Chains considering how organized he’d seen the drawers being in the past.

“Gotta at least tell me what’s happened so far. Too much shit happens here in five minutes for it to not have gotten interesting.”

Houston paused again, as if Chains’ words kept stirring him out of his thoughts. Something _was_ up. Chains leaned forward as if the van’s wide back doors would ever lend him a better look at the other man, and he regretted being in his place so he could at least get a read on him.

Instead of saying anything, the pause drew out long enough to lend itself to silence, and finally Chains got out of the vehicle to come over to Houston.

He’d stopped messing about in the drawer as he’d heard Chains come out, and let out another sigh, this one a lot less relieved and more preparatory. Something was definitely floating around in his head, if not from the silence but from the downward glance and darkening expression that had developed on his face. Houston had earned the title of “ghost” just as much as Chains had earned “muscle”, but this kind of quiet wasn’t like him. And Chains was probably one of the only people on the crew who could actually recognize that.

“It’s just the two of us in here, you can tell me, you know,” Chains said, and gave Houston a slight nudge with his elbow to spur him on.

Houston’s brow, in that perpetually crinkled state, tightened before finally meeting Chains’s eyes. Again, Chains saw that bit of recognition Houston had offered him upon seeing him in the van. Except here, as close as they now were, it felt more open. Vulnerable. Maybe even trusting, if Chains could read into him that closely.

It was obvious to the both of them that they’d known and trusted people long before each other in the gang but…at least for Chains, seeing that sense of trust reflect in Houston’s expression meant something else. They’d _worked_ at getting their relationship to here, through time and cooperation through the most dangerous kinds of shit anyone’d been through. Chains had hardly gotten the chance to stick with someone this long, and definitely not in context of comforting someone with this kind of privacy.

After his safehouse in Sweden had blown to kingdom come, he’d tried to put a set of chains on that part of his life. But right now, if he could feel the lock on it start to rattle its way open, he would.

Houston’s expression couldn’t stay trained on him long, it seemed, as he finally spoke. “I knew Locke would pick the alternate fucking plan. I proposed Plan A so that everyone would stay out of the way of Wolf’s new ‘Christmas crackers’, and Locke still had you all run out into the line of fire anyway. I _knew_ it would happen, and I knew it from the moment he took me off the team in getting a crew together for this. But look at that,” Houston gestured out towards the living room. “Everyone’s celebrating anyway, patting Wolf and everyone on the back as if that was the fucking plan from the beginning. I don’t know about _them_ , but I’m not a fan of one of our own being wrapped up in a body bag for Christmas.

“No one even told me they’d be sending you in my place either. You’ve been on the last three heists, and I’ve been over here with my thumb up my ass for the past _six_. There’s a real sense of balance in _that_ lineup.”

“Locke is wanting to keep all the quiet people on reserve in case we get another infiltration job,” Chains reminded him, neutrally. “If you ask me, he’s just trying to protect his own, now that we got Joy around. But now she’s getting just as antsy.”

“It’s a waste of talent. We work on recruiting new members so we can—what—have more people singing drunk carols in my ear? Bonnie does that enough for all of us.”

Chains chuckled, but kept his tone serious given Houston’s current disposition. “I’m happy to have words with Locke over that. Done it before with Bain, when Dallas had the habit of protecting his own too, remember?”

“Yeah I remember,” Houston replied, every ounce of his tone implying it was a topic that hadn’t quite settled in its entirety yet.

“Hey, I don’t mind the work, though. Gives everyone a chance of fixing their own weapons instead of coming to me for every fuckin’ problem, and I think they’re actually starting to learn a thing or two. That, or John’s been put to the task in my place.”

Houston nodded passively. “Yeah. It’s just…fuck, you’d think they’d get their heads out of their asses long enough to realize what they’re doing. We got enough people to change the game, and we’re just sticking to sending in the four from the beginning. Can call in a thousand gallons of water to pump through a drill in the Golden Grin, yet we can only put our new people out when they get their first debut. It’s bullshit.”

Chains thought to comment, but Houston continued, voice impassioned by something else. “I just don’t get how they keep throwing you out there. We got plenty of good people up to putting on that nightmare you’re wearing, but you’re being forced to do it instead. I could’ve sworn just yesterday if they sent you out on this heist you wouldn’t be coming back, and…” His voice tightened as he trailed off.

Chains blinked. An outpour from Houston was unsurprising, and he’d heard the kind of thing enough times to get used to how they usually went.

This was different. This was Houston admitting he was worried enough about Chains that this was the only thing left on his mind. That level of concern was…something else altogether. And something he wasn’t sure if he’d ever hear from him.

“You’re really that worried about me, huh?” Chains asked, a level of gentleness in his tone he never could’ve expected.

Houston, in response, all but _flushed_.

“Listen…everyone here knows you look after all of us around here,” he said, voice still tight. “We’ve got a whole crew but…you deserve having someone looking after you, too. And I want to be that person.” Immediately after the words got out, he seemed to go further into himself, but kept talking.

“There’s only so much that damn armor can do for you, and I know you like to go test that out. I get it, but now that it’s getting more dangerous…” Houston’s hand tensed on the desk. “I want them to be able to look out for you like I can.”

Chains knew his own face had softened in the wake of Houston’s words, and the thought of hiding that from the other man was completely gone from his mind. “You’re giving me mixed signals here, man,” he said, voice teasing if only to remove any tension from the atmosphere. “I don’t know if you’re saying I need to watch my ass or that you love me.”

It seemed a smile couldn’t be helped from forming on Houston’s face at that, and Chains considered that a victory on his part.

“They tend to go hand-in-hand,” Houston admitted.

“Yeah? Is that the translation for ‘don’t act dumb’ after all?”

The glare Chains received was a mix of endearment and irritation, and so uniquely _Houston_ that a loud laugh erupted from him. And he didn’t mind the emptiness of the garage carrying the sound, because the smile that lingered on Houston’s face in hearing it was worth it to see again. To have this moment exist just for the both of them.

When he finally had his laugh, he rested his hand on top of Houston’s. He had almost expected him to bristle at the touch, but there was that sense of trust again as Houston relaxed into it and took his hand into his. That sort of movement shot straight into Chains’s chest and created a familiar warmth there that Chains hadn’t felt in quite some time.

“We’ve come pretty far from the First World Bank,” Chains said, looking down at their contact. “Gotten a helluva lot more dangerous. Cops more organized. And Locke isn’t as watchful as Bain was—”

“ _Definitely_ isn’t,” Houston interrupted, and Chains couldn’t help laughing again. Give it the criticism of management to be the time Houston wants to speak up.

“Definitely isn’t. So thank you. Lucky to have you watching out for me.”

“We’re all lucky to have you watching out for us. And…there’s no one else like you on the crew. The least you can let me do for you is make sure you’re safe.”

“So is this really all about you caring about me, or about you calling out how I fight?”

“Come on. I just said there’s no one else like you, and you _know_ that goes for fighting. There’s a lot to be said about everyone else. This is…yeah. You know.”

“I know. I just wanted to hear you say it,” Chains answered, and turned his eyes to Houston’s to give him a mischievous grin.

“Oh, I get it. You’re just being an ass,” Houston said, but took that moment to move closer to him, navigate his hands to Chains’s shoulders.

He had to lean up to kiss him, and that thought settled warmly in Chains as an embarrassed chuckle became buried in their contact. He wasn’t sure which one of them it came from.

Chains expected the kiss to be quick, but Houston lingered, hands moving themselves to Chains’s forearms to hold him there even longer. For a moment, as they came close, Chains was worried Houston would feel the heartbeat beginning to hammer in his own chest, through the fucking armor itself with how loud it felt. And he simultaneously loved and hated the idea.

These kinds of things were a thrill just as much as any heist, after all.

For a moment Chains thought they might just stay in the garage, the both of them entirely missing out on the festivities and was very quickly becoming comfortable to the idea. But he saw another silhouette curve into the garage, and barely had the time to separate from Houston’s lips before the person barged in.

It was Sydney, who, by some miracle, didn’t see the two of them from the van doors giving some cover. Houston’s hands stayed on him the entire time as she entered, went to her workbench to carefully pick out a spray can, and then went back into the living room as if nothing had happened.

They were both speechless for a long moment until Houston muttered, “There’s no fucking privacy in this place.”

Chains laughed again, and allowed them to separate, now that the moment had ended. It didn’t stop a sense of buzzing in the back of his head, however. “Well…maybe you can help a teammate out of his armor, now that we got a chance?”

“No fucking way, the last thing I need is her coming back to seeing _that_ and getting any ideas. I’ll…see you inside, all right?” Houston gave him a smile, this one significantly more confident, as he slipped out of the garage.

Chains shook his head fondly but was glad to see their short talk had somehow given Houston the motivation to get back to the crew’s celebration. He set about dissembling the armor again, this time with a renowned sense of impatience to join everyone inside.


End file.
